Posts Tagged ‘high school’

Thinking The Children

Wednesday, May 25th, 2022

For my senior year, my first class every day was AP Physics, and my teacher had a small poster located in very close proximity to his classroom flag. The poster had a stock image of a velociraptor above text reading “Velociraptor = Distraptor / Timeraptor.” Classic physics joke. I always stood there silently with my hands by my sides looking at that poster during the daily pledge. When we were told to rise for the national anthem at my graduation ceremony last night, I thought about that poster.

It felt like any other pledge, and the majority of my preparations for the end of my senior year of high school felt like any other day. Final assignments, papers, and tests all felt like nothing I wasn’t used to. Sitting through my peers’ speeches was different that usual, but it was easy. I felt a few butterflies flitting around in my stomach shortly before rising to join the line of students waiting to receive their diplomas, and that was it. It was like I was a complete natural at the experience of high school, and in many ways, I guess I was. I wasn’t walking across that stage with three cords, two stoles, one medal and, lest we forget, a cap and gown for no reason. In some way or another, I think I won high school.

When I got home, I got to read updates about a horrific school shooting in Uvalde, Texas. I had first read about it sometime before the ceremony when only a few children were confirmed dead from the massacre. The number had reached the teens and included teachers by the time I had gotten home after the ceremony. Today I got to read pleas from political pundits suggesting turning schools into heavily guarded, logistically nonsensical obstacle courses to prevent shootings instead of actually doing anything that would keep the weapons perpetrating said shootings out of the hands of the cruel and unstable. In August I’ll be moving into a dorm at Kent State University, known across the country as ‘that school where kids got shot’ if Star Wars doesn’t completely overtake your mental function every May 4.

Some things don’t change. But some things do, in small and subtle ways that will soon spread and explode into something much bigger than itself.

Wednesday, May 25th, 2022

It’s over!

Monday, May 23rd, 2022

I graduate tomorrow.

Graduation practice was held this morning. I couldn’t find specifically where I was supposed to go, so I naturally ended up going to the track field where the ceremony is to be held should the weather cooperate. Chairs were being set up, and despite the fact that I didn’t recognize anyone walking the track or throwing assorted sports balls around, I’m used to not recognizing most of the people in my school’s halls, so I figured they were just some unfamiliar fellow seniors killing time. I walked the track, wondering if I should’ve brought a jacket.

The kids were herded back into the gym shortly afterwards. I sat on the bleachers, waiting for instructions. I and a few others were then reprimanded by one of the gym teachers for sitting on the bleachers when they were supposed to be kept clean.

Confused about why barely anyone was there despite having arrived on time, I went up to one of the teachers—another gym teacher—at the front of the gym and asked her about exactly what was happening. It turns out I had walked into a gym class and completely, perfectly assimilated myself.

What a way to end my high school career: a big, fat doi.

I’m not angry or disappointed; I just find it hilarious.

I did make my way to where I was supposed to be, the humid auxiliary gym right beside where my misguided assumptions had led me, and settled myself in my assigned folding chair. I gazed across the rows as the principal read out the ceremony procedure, and a peculiar feeling welled up inside of me. Despite all the effort I had put in to get to this point, the effort that gifted me the assorted cords and stoles I’ll be wearing, the act of sitting there felt terrifyingly effortless.

Getting Farther Out Everyday

Saturday, April 30th, 2022

I have less than a month left of high school.

Last week was technically the last ‘normal’ week of classes before AP and state testing wreck havoc across the land. For me, it was the busiest week of my high school career. I had my final Model UN conference, which ended with a joke motion to “get rid of Ohio (via bulldozer boats)” (don’t ask). Guess I won’t be off to Kent State in August, for it had to be sacrificed to save America from the rapidly expanding, parasitic Buckeye State. On other days of the week, I found myself in parts of my school I had never seen in my entire four years of attendance there. The secret agent lurking inside of me adored that, though I still question why my school doesn’t use its perfectly preserved time capsule pool for more than the swim team and physics class boat races, or why I didn’t know they have a room full of iMacs.

All that aside, it gives me mixed emotions to know that the public school system I’ve been tethered to for the last twelve years will be soon be behind me.

It’s even odder placing my role as a freethinking high schooler in the context of our current culture. More and more attacks on critical thinking have been entering schools across the country thanks to concerned parents who would prefer their children remain ignorant to history and the world at large. Reading about book bans and threats towards teachers who teach the truth is disheartening and, frankly, terrifying. It’s a shame that we as humans, instead of encouraging nuance and intelligent analysis, have allowed for those actively promoting ignorance to have an increasingly large platform. Society is being rapidly dumbed down at the hands of these types, the ones who let their favorite political pundits and reality show stars—what’s the difference nowadays?—determine their every opinion instead of stopping to think about what they are consuming. They may be puppets, but they have power.

We live in a world of ever-increasing absurdity, plain and simple, and humans are basically just strange little animals trapped in an overcrowded cage. They do weird things and can seem very kind one moment and then be seen brutally mauling each other the next. Recognizing these truths is the only way to see the world for what it is. And when logical thought and critical thinking are placed at the forefront of this observation and emotions don’t blind us, work can be done and change can be made for the better—for all of us. When education devalues these qualities and promotes homogeny and close-mindedness in their place, you are learning nothing but a lie.

I’m genuinely grateful that I was able to receive a quality education throughout my high school career. And I’m miffed that the things that made those four years so valuable to me—the discussions I’ve had in my English and social studies classes, the documentaries I’ve watched and dissections I’ve done in anatomy class, the support I’ve received from my teachers—are being disparaged across the country. But then again, people still think that the Kent students protesting the Vietnam War on that crisp spring day in 1970—the anniversary of which is coming up rapidly—were the true agitators when the National Guard came to town. And that’s not stopping me any time soon.

As I enter the next phase of my life, I will continue to seek the truth.